


if we have eachother

by pinkgrapefruit



Series: if we have eachother universe [1]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: M/M, Multi, canon ish, dad!vanjie, it's really just a bunch of fluff, super mega supportive uncles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 06:38:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18987283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkgrapefruit/pseuds/pinkgrapefruit
Summary: when vanessa adopts three-year-old twins, everyone tells him he is crazy.(or, vanessa makes a choice and everyone is the most supportive because they love him)[pure fluffy goodness]





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> hello, it is i, grapefruit bringing you all of the Vanessa with kids content you could want on this fine day. coming to your screens at some point i guess? 
> 
> enjoy!

When Vanessa adopts three-year-old twins, everyone tells him he is crazy. He’s a drag queen at the height of his career, but he knows that there are things in life that take sacrifice - and for this, he’d give the world. 

 

He chooses domestic adoption and becomes a father on a random Wednesday in August. It’s a struggle, but he makes it work.

 

You see, he expected to have to do it on his own - boy was he wrong.


	2. chapter one. in which family means chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a moment of solitude in a time that is far too busy for his liking. He longs for days back in the summer when he would sit in the garden, watch them run around until they fell onto the warm grass. Ice cream and dance parties and the smell of freshly washed baby hair - apple shampo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hollaaaa - i finished this way before i thought i would but please don't hold your breath for the next chapter. I also was not expecting to go soooo branjie but ah well. Thanks to frey and meggie for putting up with my ass and lets get on with the show!

Vanessa names his kids after ' _The Notebook'_ characters because _‘well, I want them to be happy and find love and shit’_ and they live in a bubble for a few months between the end of August and the season eleven announcements. It’s anything less than calm and a learning curve and a half before he sleeps full nights again (when he does, he’s got Allie under one arm and Noah on his back, but he’s never been happier). He cuts down his drag shows and leans on his sisters a little for support, A’keria talks him through the little things his research didn’t prepare him for - how they don’t like being alone and can’t quite understand when they’re being addressed because their old family wasn’t ideal. He never cries in front of them, only drinks a glass of wine every few nights, alone on his couch. Brooke is around when he can be, all 6’3 of a Canadian man who becomes just so soft around the kids - they don’t know of their Papa’s relationship with Uncle Brooke. It's for the better as then again, they’re three.

 

Then season eleven premieres and his world is turned back on its head, moments filtering through his mind like sand particles until everything makes it through the hourglass. He spends more time away from his kids than he would ever want to, but still manages to read them a bedtime story over Facetime. They celebrate their birthday in early March (and Brooke triumphantly reminds Vanessa that his kids are Pisces). It’s a family affair and they - a good handful of season ten and eleven sisters - go to the beach, Noah staying safely in the embrace of Nina while Allie jumps waves with Scarlet and Yvie. Brooke and Vanessa stay under the giant umbrellas, watching the kids as they wonder how they got this lucky. The twins may not be in any relation with Brooke, by relationship or blood, but he takes pride in knowing he was one of their first _people_ , that means more than any crown he could win. The Latino regularly fields questions about how he co-parents with an ex but the answer is more complicated than it might seem, so he keeps his mouth shut and watches his son be spun around on the other man’s back, flying.

 

It’s a moment of solitude in a time that is far too busy for his liking. He longs for days back in the summer when he would sit in the garden, watch them run around until they fell onto the warm grass. Ice cream and dance parties and the smell of freshly washed baby hair - apple shampoo.

 

*

 

He’s doing okay, he swears, as he juggles Allie and Noah between Alexis and A’keria and anyone else who’s in town at the time. Then he books four straight weeks in California and he’s doing better. It runs all the way up to Drag Con and then they start the tour, something which - against all odds - he can bring the twins on. It’s going to take a village but he’s endlessly excited for the upcoming months.

 

He makes tiny matching jackets and buys them light up sneakers, takes them to a mini street dance class at the local community centre, and while Allie takes to it like a fish to water, he watches Noah struggle. When they get home, the kids are still singing ‘ _The Greatest Show_ ’ (who decided that was a good street dance song, he will never know), and he tries on a few outfits for them. Noah's personal favourite is the strings on his thigh-high lace-up heels. Dressed in the reunion outfit and a random pink wig of Allie’s choice, they spend the early afternoon dancing in the living room to RuPaul songs till the twins are exhausted enough for a nap. He has to carry them upstairs one by one, laying each on their bed and removing the sneakers so that they sleep better. He tucks them in, presses kisses to their foreheads, and returns to his drag studio to tidy up the mess they made.

 

When he hears clumsy footsteps in the hall, he turns and finds a tiny little brunette staring at him. She’s got eyes that encompass oceans, big and blue and they’re streaming as she sniffles, hugging her ballet bear (a present from Brooke) close to her. He takes two big strides and envelops her fragile frame in his, whispering words of comfort as little hands grip into his vest. “Shhhh Allie-baby,” he coos, hates hearing her cry. “‘C’mon baby girl, it’s okay.” - umber meets cerulean as he pulls her away slightly, facing her. “What happened?”

 

The girl balls her tiny fist around one of his vest straps, mumbles a soft and muffled “Papa,” into his torso before sniffling.

 

He sets her down and holds out a hand, walking her back to her bedroom like his mama always taught him to treat women. He sets her on her bed and looks at her softly. “C’mon boo, we gonna have a story?” She perks up a little, relaxes her grip on the teddy bear as she snuggles under the covers. Vanessa is momentarily impressed by how Noah is still asleep.

 

“Once upon a time, there was a queen called Miss Vanjie -”

 

*

 

Vanessa is endlessly surprised at how people step up if you let them. It’s the second week of the tour and he’s almost run out of easy ways to entertain the twins, has let them watch more YouTube than he is proud of and begins to wonder how anyone thought it was a good idea to bring them on tour (he forgets this every night when he shares a double bed with them and wakes up to them cuddled into him like a giant teddy bear). His silence comes when they are napping in his and Brooke’s respective bus bunks one afternoon, the two men happily drinking their coffees and doing absolutely nothing at all.

 

“You do know they’ll all help if you let them,” points out Brooke, after a while. He vaguely gestures to their sisters, lounging around the bus in various states of disarray. The shorter man just shrugs and sips his coffee.

 

“They’re my kids,” he says after a while. “I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.” He states it like it’s fact, like it’s at all a justification - it’s not, as far as Brooke is concerned.

 

“Yes,” he formulates carefully, “but we’d rather hang out with the tiny humans than be annoyed with them?”

 

Vanessa sighs - for not the first time in their fractured relationship, the older man is right.

 

So he lets people help. After their nap, Nina takes the twins into the venue with her - plays ‘Drag Is Magic’ over the loudspeakers while everything is set up around them. The shorter man watches proudly from the balcony as his kids dance to his spelling bee song, yelling the lyrics to the whole album after a couple of shows. It becomes a routine, and then afterwards, Vanessa pulls out some healthy snacks and they sit on their laps as Uncle Nina and their Papa discuss the political state of America.

 

Michelle walks in on this one day, the adults’ legs dangling off the stage as Allie and Noah shovel watermelon into their mouths. She looks on in pride as she sees a young man she knew could do great things, transform in front of her eyes into someone special.

 

On the afternoon of the Chicago show, Vanessa comes back from his rehearsal to find Scarlet performing a fashion show with the twins, Noah twirling around in Yvie’s yellow kaftan as the respective queen watch on in hysterics. The small boy is drowning in the floaty material and almost falls twice as Yvie keeps catching him. Allie’s dark hair holds a denim mane (that, in turn, is being held just above her head by Scarlet so that it doesn’t fall off). He pauses at the door for a second or two, takes in the couple as they play around with his kiddos - “Sissy that Walk” blasting through a wireless speaker as they prance like lunatics.

 

“You two are gonna make great dads,” he teases when the song stops, winking at the men as he hoists Allie onto his hip.

 

Scarlet holds two fingers up in a suck-it motion and Yvie cackles loudly, as she attempts to remove her outfit from the bouncing little boy. Once she succeeds, she ruffles his hair triumphantly before leading him to the door.

 

“It’s been a pleasure, Vanj,” she says as Scarlet loops an arm around her waist.

 

“Yeah, they can bask in my excellence anytime,” adds the other queen, deadpan.

 

“Yeah, right bitch,” retorts Vanessa, covering Noah's ears as Allie snuggles further into his hoodie. “Thanks though.”

 

Noah waves as they leave the dressing room, returning to the safe haven of his and Brooke’s where there are blankets on the chairs, toys on the floor and most importantly, Uncle Brooke.

*

 

Brooke promises to teach Noah ballet after Vanessa had a wine-fuelled rant about how _‘that boy is so fucking clumsy I swear he’s gonna give his Papa a heart attack, holy Jesus’._ He sits in an empty dressing room with the kid and holds his waist while he gets him to point one foot. He might be four but he’s a quick learner and pretty soon the man has him in a nice first position. Calmer than his sister, Noah has a special place in Brooke's heart - always considering him as taking after him more so than his Papa. They take a break after ten minutes and the boy snuggles into the Canadian’s side, warm body on cool shirt - his dark hair soft on his arm.

 

He takes him out for pizza afterwards, his treat (Allie and Vanessa went to a pop-up mini hip hop class so Brooke has free control). He wipes the sauce from the boy's mouth, cuts up the pizza into smaller pieces for him and, not for the first time, feels like this is his son. It stings a little, knowing he could have had this, but resuming his place as favourite uncle helped clean over the wound a little.

 

On their way out, Brooke sits Noah on his shoulders, tiny hands curling into his hair. A woman bumps his arm,

 

“Your son is adorable,” she says and while it’s surely meant kindly it feels like someone poured a glass of ice water down his back. He nods politely, Canadian coolness running over him as he moves past.

 

“Papa!” calls Noah from atop his shoulders and he stops with a start. He takes a deep breath, followed by a heavy swallow before the boy speaks again.

 

“BrookeBrooke!” the man swings the boy around so his legs are around his waist.

 

“Yes, honey?” he responds eyes all warmth and kindness and furlongs of love.

 

“I can see Papa!”

 

The man swings Noah back onto his shoulders before looking around curiously. Sure enough, coming towards them from across the street are Vanessa and Allie, smiling like Cheshire cats. He raises an eyebrow but it doesn't stop the smirk developing on his face.

 

With practised ease, Vanessa gently pulls Noah off Brooke’s shoulders while Brooke swings Allie onto his back. “Heya, Baby Girl,” he coos as she wraps her short arms around his neck. The warm caramel of her skin a contrast against his own Canadian pale.

 

He gives a familiar nod to the other man, “Hey, boo,” and they return to the theatre in easy silence. Nothing needs to be said that they both don’t already know - he can’t tell if it’s better that way.

 

*

 

They all go for a cast dinner. Ariel does the kids’ hair so that Vanessa can get ready in quiet for once but he misses the sound of them. He stands in his hotel room bathroom but cannot help the overwhelming emptiness he feels. Every noise he makes feels like it carries on forever - endless within the confines of the small room. He keeps flicking his eyes up to the mirror out of habit, watches the bed in the reflection like it is going to jump at him. He’s so distracted that he cuts himself shaving, feels the blood dripping down his neck before he refocuses enough to look. He moves to Ariel’s bathroom instead.

 

When he gets there, he hears a familiar Canadian voice through the door.

 

“I must save you, prince Noah!” comes the enthusiastic cry, followed by squeals of laughter.

 

“It’s Queen Noah,” his son replies, diving comically onto the double bed as Vanessa opens the door.

 

Allie and Ariel watch as the queen tries to coerce his daughter's hair into a braid of some sorts - the look of concentration is comical as Allie keeps laughing at Brooke’s antics. He smiles, a contented smile and moves through to the bathroom, finishes getting ready in something close to peace (but loud and annoying and full of so much joy).

 

*

 

After the meal, Brooke and a couple of the others head to a nearby bar. He flirts recklessly with different men for a few hours, downing whatever shots they buy him and dances till his feet hurt. It doesn’t quite feel right, but it’s okay - he’s content.

 

Or at least he thinks he is as he turns around from a particularly attractive Puerto Rican man to see Yvie and Scarlet waving frantically at him from the bar. He mutters an apology and leaves a neat kiss on the man's cheek before wandering over there. He’s three tequilas down and doesn’t particularly care but they’re looking at him and not each other so he assumes something must be wrong.  

 

Something is.

 

They show him Scarlet’s phone (which he cannot read right now) and shout things at him that he loses the meaning of the second he hears ‘Noah’ and ‘hospital’.

 

He’s always thought it was a cliché when people in movies say that time stands still. Never really been impressed by the shots of the flashing lights and muffled screams, but this? This feels like a car crash in slow-motion, two trains going off the rails, a hurricane with no preparation, a fireball fired at a wooden house. It is plummeting down a hill with no pedals, no handlebars, just falling - it is too scary to be flying.

 

Yvie offers to drive - knows that if she doesn’t, Brooke will try and he is infinitely too drunk to do that. She gets them to the ER significantly quicker than their satnav tells them they will - cuts corners, runs a red light or two but Brooke cannot find it within him to care (Scarlet enjoys it way too much).

 

When they arrive, the Canadian jumps out of the car with a fervour, runs headlong into the building, grabbing onto the reception desk as he stops.

 

“Hi, sorry,” he heaves, partially nerves, fully out of breath from the cardio. “Noah Mateo?”

 

The woman sighs with disinterested boredom. “Yes, waiting room.” she says, gesturing vaguely to the open seating behind him. He turns, eyes scanning frantically, trying to locate _him._

 

They lock eyes, Brooke racing over and pulling the shorter man into a hug, warm and long. He pulls away every so slightly before pushing his nose into the other man’s hair and inhaling deeply the smell of his cologne.

 

“I’m so- I’m sorry, baby,” he mutters, muffled by Vanessa's hair. He exhales but pulls him in tighter, arms winding around him as his tears wet his white button down. They pull apart so that Vanessa can blow his nose and Brooke immediately turns on his heels to face the little girl. She’s sitting on one of the hard plastic chairs, tear tracks down her face as A’keria runs her hand through the braid Ariel had done so nicely. He kneels in front of her, takes each small hand in his.

 

“Allie,” he says, long, drawn out and soft. “Baby.”

 

She surges forwards to hug him, her petite body barely the length of his torso and he holds her close as he stands up,her head tucked into the crook of his neck. Vanessa loops an arm around his waist and leans into him for support - they must look quite like a family, he supposes blankly.

 

“What happened?” He asks, quiet but serious, as he thumbs Allie's back.

 

“Peanuts, apparently - the woman was real mean.”

 

Brooke tilts his head a little, curious.

 

“They were on at me ‘cause I should’ve known ‘parently.” He sniffles a bit, head resting on Brooke's heaving chest. He decides he never wants to let him go.

 

It’s funny, he later recalls, how emergencies bring you back to the truth. How one awful thing can reset you a little, till you see good things.

 

“Noah Mateo?” a nurse calls.

 

The entire cast stands bolt upright as Vanessa steps out of Brooke’s grasp.

 

“Uhuh,” he says, hoarsely.

 

“Two people, come with me.”

 

The shorter man tugs at Brooke’s arm, an invitation of sorts, as Silky unlatches Allie from him. He allows himself to be pulled through the waiting room, not looking at the rest of the families in distress, not wanting to imagine that could’ve been them. Vanessa intertwines their fingers and he squeezes his hand tightly. It’s an “okay”, a “this is going to be alright”, an “I’m here.”

 

The woman shows them through to a small room where Noah is on a drip; there are not as many tubes as Brooke thought there would be, and he’s so very glad, but even seeing the boy look so small - it hurts in a way he didn’t realise it could. Vanessa’s grip loosens as he breaks away, moving to grip his son's hand fiercely. He can hear his soft murmurs as Brooke takes the opposite chair, stroking the boy’s arm.

 

“Por Dios. Por Dios. Por Dios.”

 

“I’m gonna have to make you some arroz con dulce when we get home, baby.”

 

The shorter man looks up at him and smiles. It’s tired, like all his energy has been removed and he’s running on coffee for the third day, but he feels the warmth in it nonetheless.

 

“I’m grateful you came, Brock.”

 

As he looks into Vanessa’s eyes, wind meeting earth, he knows there is no place he’d rather be.

 

*

 

They don’t discuss it until three days later when they are back in LA and the kids are at A’keria’s with Silky. Vanessa would be lying if he said that that assuaged all of his fears of leaving his kids alone, but it certainly saved some of them.

 

Brooke comes over and they drink wine on his couch watching ' _Pretty Woman'_ and discussing nothing and everything all at once. Vanessa cries at the ending (as he had every time he’s made Brooke watch it) and the taller man hands him a tissue before the tears start rolling. He smiles a wet smile and shuffles a little, so his legs touch the other man's. As the end credits roll, he mutes the TV, facing Brooke head on.

 

“We, we should talk ‘bout this,” he says, calm and collected.

 

Brooke sits up straighter, back cracking as he moves to be more comfortable.

“Yeah,” he drawls slightly.

 

Vanessa nods at him to continue.

 

“I know we had our issues, but-but I love these kids. And I want to be here for them.”

 

“I don’t think I’m seeing your point,” responds the Puerto Rican - he is, but he needs him to say it.

 

“I want this. I want us.”

 

“How do I know you ‘ain’t just gonna leave again? How, Brock?”

 

The other man hesitates and Vanessa keeps talking.

 

“There are kids involved now, I need you to understand this shit.”

 

“I know,” the Canadian concedes. “You better believe I will protect those kids with my life.”

 

“That’s not the point though. What’s different now?” This stumps Brooke as the other man gets more and more frustrated. He’s tired and upset and wants this more than anything but there is more on the line than a title and some money. There is life - human life filled with blood and flesh and emotions and love and he can’t just offer that up as collateral.

 

Brooke reaches out across the invisible canyon that spans the sofa, grabs his hand in an oblivion that he doesn’t quite know how to talk his way through.

 

“My mama always taught me not to make promises I can’t keep,” and Vanessa’s heart breaks a little.

 

“But I promise those kids will be my priority until the day I fucking die.”

 

Vanessa hums a little, his face a mix between unhappy acceptance and overwhelmed. He’s been watching Brooke through this, hopeful but always a little cautious. His heart is telling him to ~~jump this man's bones~~ run to Brooke, to hold on and never let go. But his head has reservations.

 

Brooke can sense the apprehension from miles off, smells it like a wolf sniffing out its prey. He wants to hold him and promise the world but he’s already done that - those kids are his world.

 

“Whatever freedom I have doesn’t compare to how I feel when I’m with you, José, and if I   can’t have that, I don’t want anyone.”

 

It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back, the boulder that sets off the avalanche, as Vanessa surges forward to wrap his arms around his neck, pushing Brooke's back into the cushions of the sofa.

 

“I would have taken you back at the promise,” he mutters, smiling into his neck.

 

“I would have waffled until the end of time,” replies the other man, a grin adorning his face. It suits him, Vanessa decides as he pulls back.

 

“FUCK, SHIT, FUCK!” he exclaims suddenly. “WE NEED TO PICK UP THE KIDS.”

 

The inclusion of ‘we’ doesn’t go unnoticed as Brooke dies laughing on the couch, the man's sudden change of mood utterly hilarious to him.

 

“HURRY YOUR ASS UP, BROCK, OR THERE WILL BE NO COOKIES.”

 

*

 

They arrive at A’keria’s stressed and tired, LA traffic still too much for the both of them. When Silky opens the door (with a raised eyebrow at the pair who look on sheepishly), the twins rush out to meet them. It’s late, and Vanessa should be mad that they’re not asleep but as he watches them tackle Brooke to the ground - he realises he doesn’t care.

  



	3. chapter two. in which family means adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He makes the kids packed lunches every day while the rest of the family is asleep. He cuts the sandwiches into little animals and the fruit into stars using cutters Brooke and the twins bought for Fathers' Day, and usually halfway through, more often than not at this point, his man will traipse down the stairs and wordlessly make them both coffees in their ‘world’s best dad’ mugs, which they’ll sip at the table, holding hands and watching the news until they have to get the kids up for school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have 12/27 exams left and to celebrate, here's a chapter. it's soft as fuck. thanks to frey and qtip as usual for being the best and lets get to it. Enjoy!

When the kids start school Vanessa comes to the startling revelation that he can’t keep doing this (this being travelling non-stop, gigs across the country and long-ass tours) - it’s not a bittersweet farewell, but it’s the end of an era, he supposes. And then he makes himself a set of rules instead. One tour a year, no more than two weeks, must be able to find childcare. Avoid international gigs without another queen. No gigs on school nights. And it works, for three years, it works perfectly, and then the kids are eight and they’re moving house and he realises that,  _ god _ , he misses touring - just a little bit. Misses the feeling of waking up in a different city than you fell asleep, new crowds every night, the atmosphere of it all. But he wakes up in his king-sized bed curled up around a Canadian hunk, and sometimes there’s still a child on his back if it’s been a really bad night, and he also knows he wouldn’t give it up for the world. 

 

He does a gig at least every week, got a steady hosting job at Micky's WeHo on a Friday night and Brooke doesn’t work them, so it’s his night with the kids while Vanessa dips and twirls and screams on stage, whipping the crowd up into a frenzy before announcing the latest in a stream of Drag Race girls and up-and-coming queens. Sometimes Silky or A’keria joins him and they have a proper good time of it, but even when he’s alone up there he still feels as at home as he does on the sofa, Allie on his lap, legs on Brooke’s who has an arm around Noah as they watch _'Clueless'_ or something else that is definitely not appropriate for eight-year-olds, but _‘our kids are gonna know shit, babe - I didn’t have them for them to be uncultured.’_

 

On his days off, he goes full ‘PTA dad’ as Brooke likes to call that - it better be as affectionate as Brooke’s ‘Dance Mom’ title - stemming from him watching Noah and Allie dance like he himself is doing it - but Vanessa isn’t quite willing to take that chance. He makes the kids packed lunches every day while the rest of the family is asleep. He cuts the sandwiches into little animals and the fruit into stars using cutters Brooke and the twins bought for Fathers' Day, and usually halfway through, more often than not at this point, his man will traipse down the stairs and wordlessly make them both coffees in their _‘world’s best dad’_ mugs, which they’ll sip at the table, holding hands and watching the news until they have to get the kids up for school. Allie is always easier to wake up, so they alternate who wakes up who, and get them dressed for the day before Brooke tries (and fails) to make pancakes, Vanessa sitting at the table with his coffee and dying laughing like it’s not a daily thing. 

 

The kids had been excited when he told them ‘Uncle Brook’ would be living with them all the time, even though they stopped calling him that years ago and he’s basically living at theirs anyway (his flat is more of a glorified drag closet than a flat at this point). They switch between ‘Brock’ for everyday stuff and ‘Dad’ in really tender moments, ever since Allie slipped up at an ice-rink one Christmas and had cried into his arms. Secretly Vanessa can’t wait until they call him 'Dad' all the time, but he already has a mug from the last Fathers' Day so he figures they’re getting pretty close.

 

*

 

They move on a Tuesday, out of the cosy condo they’ve always lived in. It’s only a little across LA, still close enough to go to the same school, but they’ve been saving all the extra money they have to mortgage a little townhouse and it’s everything they could have asked for. Allie squeals as she runs through the door, sprints up the carpeted stairs before Vanessa can call out to her, screaming “PAPA, PAPA, LOOK!” as she counts the bedrooms again and again. There’s four: one for each kid that they can grow into, one for him and Brooke, and one for drag. The drag room might be the second biggest - they’re not ashamed. 

 

They get Monique, Monét and Nina over to paint and decorate, and as Nina and Brooke do the heavy lifting downstairs, Monique and Monét start painting Noah’s room. It’s a periwinkle blue, something he’d been insistent on when they’d been planning, Chinese food and paint swatches littering the table like some sort of fun brainstorming session - it was, but it ended with the adults drinking red wine on the couch and Vanessa bitching about PTA moms. It turns out that Monique doesn’t understand how to use a paint roller and Vanessa leans against the door, watching as she rolls it horizontally. Monét has to sit down - she’s laughing so hard - and it draws the kids upstairs to watch as the queen can’t string together a sentence properly. It’s a hot day, so he goes downstairs to make juice, but when he hears Monét teaching the twins ‘Yo mama’ jokes - he can’t help but tell Nina, “your man is corrupting my babies”. Nina blushes frantically as she tries to put together an Ikea chair, Brooke already having built the other three. 

 

“How’s it going with him by the way?” He asks, nodding his head upstairs with a smile. 

 

“It’s really good,” she replies, handing the chair carcass to the other man who puts it together without even thinking, half paying attention to the conversation, half staring at Vanessa in his painting shorts. Brooke is topless, so Vanessa is only half paying attention too. 

 

“We talked about kids the other night,” She continues, coyly. “We’re thinking of doing what you did.”

 

“Adoption? That’s amazing, Andrew!”

 

“Seriously, I can’t think of anyone better,” adds Brooke, beaming at his best friend.

 

“We’re looking at international, we think, but it’s a little too early to say.”

 

“I’m really happy for you, mate, we both are,” Brooke says, standing to wrap an arm around his man's waist, kissing his temple lightly before taking the pitcher and the cups and gesturing upstairs. Vanessa nods slightly, leaning into his body before helping Nina to unpack the table. Neither of them can follow furniture instructions, he goes back to painting Allie’s room yellow in a matter of minutes.

 

They somehow finish all the painting by Thursday, get to move from all sleeping in the master bedroom (the only one they’d pre-decorated) to finally sleeping in their own rooms, and the first night the two spend alone they just enjoy the amount of space they have. They enjoy it for about 5 minutes, all stretched out, and then they return to their natural state instead, Vanessa curled up into Brooke's side, head on his shoulder, one leg over his waist like he’s trying to climb the man. He isn’t, but Brooke would argue otherwise.

 

*

 

Noah dances in the school talent show, a feat neither of his parents thought possible until he asked Brooke for help one day after school, citing a show in three or so weeks. Vanessa knows that his boys have spent every night since, hunkered down in the garage blasting something that sounds classical, probably. It’s Brookes expertise, he and Allie have just been baking healthy cookies and watching  _ 'The Office _ '. Neither of them is complaining.

 

He knows how much work has gone into the minute-long solo, so when he watches it, he is so proud. So proud that he is crying and the phone he’s holding up to film is removed from his hand by Brooke who takes over, because he is shaking too much to get a good video. If he posts it on Facebook after, he can’t be blamed. He has the best kids, he really does.

 

“Papa!” Noah calls out to him as he runs from the door next to the stage. “Papa! I won!” And Vanessa swears that if Brooke didn’t film that too, he’s not sleeping in their bed.

 

“I know baby, I’m so proud of you!” He says as he pulls him in, bear hugs him like he has since the boy was three. 

 

“Do you want to get ice cream, buddy?” Calls Brooke from where he’s got Allie’s hand in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in another. When the pair walk over, he kneels in front of Noah with a smile. “You see, dancers get flowers when they do really well,” and he hands his son them, “So we got you some.”

 

Vanessa pulls Allie into his side as Brooke and Noah hug, the bouquet held out awkwardly so as not to squish it.

 

“Ice cream.” Allie declares definitively and they all laugh.

 

*

 

The kids' ninth birthdays come too quick for Vanessa’s liking. He’s had them for almost six years and that scares him more than he lets on. He always wonders if he’s raising them right, if they can really be well adjusted with two drag queens as parents, but then he remembers that really they’ve got an entire family of drag queens and that makes him feel a little better.

 

He hosts a traditional Puerto Rican dinner for their birthdays. He sends Brooke around Los Angeles to find the perfect plantains, yelling through the car Bluetooth that,  _ ‘Yes I need green ones’, _ but also _ ‘THEY NEED TO BE BROWN AND SQUISHY, WHAT ARE YOU NOT UNDERSTANDING.’ _ He explains, when he gets home, that there are two ways you use plantains - super ripe or super squishy. He needs both. Brooke just laughs.

 

The man comes up behind him when he is trying to fry the tostones, wraps his strong arms around his waist and kisses his neck softly, “My little housewife,” before dipping his finger in the mayo-ketchup and leaving before Vanessa can beat his ass with the spoon. He frets around the kitchen all day until he’s made an entire banquet of classic dishes from arroz con habichuelas to pastelón de amarillos and pollo guisado. And then, somehow, he finds the energy to fret about table decorations for a little while longer. 

 

It is the eve of the twins' birthday and everyone is over, the food is already mostly gone and they’re all sat around the long table Brooke created through the open plan living area, chatting and yelling every-which-way. It’s noisy and ridiculous and there’s no place they’d rather be.

 

*

 

Nina plans for them all to go to Disney for ‘Gotcha Day’ in August and Vanessa pawns his Friday show off on A’keria and Silky the second he can. They pack easily, Brooke and the kids piling into the family ford, and tailing Nina and Monét the whole way there, switching Brooke and Monét out halfway because Brooke ‘has a headache’.

 

Unbeknownst to Vanessa, Brooke and Nina sit in Nina’s classic beetle planning a proposal. Brooke has the ring in his pocket, has had it in there since they left LA an hour before (the traffic is horrendous), and it feels like it's burning through the shorts. Like a hot potato, he needs to pass it to someone else. He puts it in Nina's rucksack instead.

 

They discuss it at length (although 'discuss' implies that it wasn't just Nina orchestrating the entire thing) and quickly realise that Vanessa has always wanted her fairytale, so maybe it needs to be somewhere truly magical - somewhere from her favourite Disney film... "ARIEL!" Brooke shouts, startling Nina slightly as the Canadian grins at her from the passenger seat. "You know Disney, Nina, where is there an Ariel bit?"

 

Nina pauses for a second while she changes gear, her eyebrow quirking up as she thinks. "I know a guy," she says, "There's a 'Little Mermaid' ride and there's a model where Ariel and Eric are sat in a boat, so maybe, I was thinking, you could go behind the scenes and propose there?"

 

Brooke lights up as they pull into the carpark. "Could you make that happen?" 

 

"I'll see what I can do."

 

*

 

“Papa, do you want the rest of your Dole Whip?”

 

“Yes, baby.”

 

“Brookie, do you need the rest of your Dole Whip?”

 

“Uhuh.”

 

“Monét, are you going to eat the rest of your Dole Whip?”

 

“Yup, kiddo, it’s mine.”

 

“Nini, can I have the rest of you Dole Whip?”

 

“Sure, here you go, kid.”

 

“NINA.”

 

*

 

“You sure you’re tall enough to ride, baby?”

 

“I swear to  _ god _ , Brock, imma kick you if you make that joke again.”

 

*

 

“Papa? Can we buy Mickey's ears?”

 

“I’ll get you them, kiddos.”

 

“Nina, no. Ugh, fine. Kids, say thank you to Uncle Nina.”

 

“You know you love it, Vanj.”

 

“Sure.”

 

*

 

Monét takes the ring out of Nina's rucksack while she's on the 'Under the Sea' ride with Vanessa and the kids. She hands it to Brooke with a pointed stare and a muttered joke about  _ 'forgetting everything, you dumb bitch' _ before dutifully returning to the small pile of rucksacks they've accumulated as a unit. Brooke smiles down at it as he thumbs the black velvet box, opens it briefly - just to check - before shoving it deep into his cargo shorts. "They're practical!" He'd defended in response to the ridicule of his soon-to-be fiancé that morning, pairing the offending shorts with a white Mickey Mouse T-Shirt (that matched Noah's). 

 

When everyone gets off the ride, Nina claps her hands as if to make an announcement before turning to the kids. "So, you know your papa likes Ariel? I may have arranged something, follow me." 

 

The kids squeal as Nina leads them down a slightly hidden hallway behind the ride, pushes open the doorway like she owns the place. Monét hoists Allie up onto her shoulders and runs ahead, leaves Vanessa and Brooke bringing up the rear, hands entwined.

 

Brooke giggles as he watches his boyfriend get excited over every little aspect of it, the music playing even though the ride is shut for 'maintenance'. He can feel himself get a little swept up in the magic, letting the kids run ahead as they near the point he's going to do it. 

 

It's a model of Ariel and Eric sat in the boat, hands clasped as they face each other. He pulls Vanessa over with a smile, requests Nina take a picture of them re-enacting. They face each other, holding hands and looking into each other's eyes for a second before Vanessa turns to Nina and gives the cheesiest grin he's ever seen.

 

Brooke takes the moment.

 

He slowly moves down onto one knee as Vanessa whips his head back around, staring at him. His head tilts to the side and his eyes start to water as the Canadian lets go of one hand to reach into his pocket. He knows what's coming, sees the glint of the ring before the box is even fully open, eyes pouring with tears as he looks to Nina to make sure this is definitely happening. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Monét, knelt with the twins, beaming. He melts a little more.

 

"José, my love," Brooke sighs, relaxes his shoulders as he looks back up at the man. "It's been a long, long road to get here, but I'm so glad we took it." Vanessa nods, glassy-eyed. "For the record, I asked the kids' permission to do this," he chuckles quietly, "Allie only told me she would have to call me Dad. I don't know about you but that doesn't seem like a bad price." Brooke tears up too now, his hand clammy in the other man's as he squeezes it loosely.

 

"I love you more than life itself and I really want to share a drag closet with you, a coffee machine, and children, and a last name. I want it all, and I want it with  _ you. _ "

 

"Yes," Vanessa whispers and Brooke swats at him. 

 

"I haven't finished yet, bitch."

 

"Sorry." He flushes a subtle red under the set lights - the slight strobing making his tears glitter like diamonds. Only diamonds would be good enough for him, Brooke decides.

 

"José, will you marry me?"

 

"No."

 

"Baby." He raises an eyebrow but the contented smile stays, he doesn’t need to worry, knows the real answer and the exact way the man’s mouth will form it, soft consonants and a hard vowel.

 

"Yes, Brock, always yes."

 

They kiss and it feels like victory - crossing the line of a racetrack on an easy win, knowing you earned that crown, that trophy, that kiss. They melt into one for just a second and it’s all Vanessa needs to say everything.

  
Then the twins are running towards them at an alarming rate. "Dad! Papa!" They shout and it almost brings Brooke to tears again as he picks up Allie, spinning her round and round before pulling her close. She’s getting big and he almost can’t do it anymore but  _ goddammit  _ he’s going to try. As he holds his fiancé and their kids close, he watches Monét press a kiss to Nina’s temple, thanks God for the family he has.


	4. chapter three. in which family means love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke and Vanessa plan a January wedding, and when they say 'they' planned the wedding, they really mean Vanessa planned it, and Brooke tested the wine list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while but life hit me like a freight train. thank you to meggie for the endless headcanons, frey for being a goddess (and my beta) and linda for being... well, linda. And to you guys! you truly don't know how much your comments helped me to write this chapter. I read every single one and i am beyond grateful - this one is for you. Enjoy!

Brooke and Vanessa plan a January wedding, and when they say 'they' planned the wedding, they really mean Vanessa planned it, and Brooke tested the wine list. They book the venue a year in advance, but do the rest of it just after the twins turn twelve, settling into their rebellious phase in a way that only a Mateo legacy could.

 

Vanessa knew this was coming, could feel it bubbling under the surface after the first day of middle school when Allie had tearfully met him at the car, huffed “why can’t we be normal?”, but refused to discuss it further. He and Brooke had established how to handle it at length, both aware that they just needed to be honest, and had planned on addressing it in dummer, it just hadn’t been that easy. Life never is.

 

It’s Monday (his mama always used to tell him that nothing good ever happens on Mondays) and Brooke picks the kids up from school, so he can finish choreographing something for the local hip-hop class. Noah storms through the door first, the usually peaceful boy moving like a hurricane as he storms up the stairs. Allie runs through next, following her brother's footsteps, as Brooke slides onto a stool at the breakfast bar, head coming to rest on the cool granite.

 

“What the hell?”

 

Brooke lifts his head from the table and mutters “I need a drink after that car ride,” before slamming it back down, letting out a quiet groan when he hits it a little harder than he intended.

 

“Brock, what the actual fuck?”

 

“Some kids said something,” The other man sighs and pulls his half empty coffee mug from after lunch towards him. It is cold and certainly not tequila, but it’ll do. He hums as he finishes it, watches his fiancé silently seethe for a little before he speaking up again. “I tried to ask.”

 

“I swear to fucking god, if them little fucking goblins talked shit to my kids, Imma beat their asses with my fucking good shoes. The spikey ones.” And Brooke has to move to grab his man's arm, thumb rubbing soft circles on his skin. He doesn’t hold him back as the shorter man moves to go upstairs, only follows him quietly.

 

They open Allie's door to find the twins huddled on her bed, embraced in a hug - Allie’s tear stained cheek resting on her brother's bony shoulder.

 

“Baby girl,” Vanessa coos as he walks towards them, Brooke pausing at the door, still unsure of his position despite co-parenting the kids for almost all of their lives.

 

“Fuck off.”

 

It comes decided and clear-cut, leaves no room for errors or mis-hearing, as the words his daughter shouts ring harshly in his mind. It feels like a cold shower on a bitterly cold day, unwelcome and unasked for. Like being stabbed with a bread knife, jagged and crenulated, and all the more impactful. It’s salt in an open wound, and it stings like nothing else. He pushes back his shoulders, tries to conceal the way they are quivering with an air of false confidence, as he reaches to place a hand on her shoulder.

 

“You’re not our real dad.”

 

He could have sworn he blacks out for a second there, it’s like asphyxiating and drowning and burning alive all at once. There is not enough air in the room, let alone in his lungs, and he knows without looking that Brooke has already been reduced to a sobbing mess.

 

“I know,” He whispers, voice breaking. “I know I’m not.”

 

“Then why are you fucking trying?”

 

If Allie’s anger licked his ears like burning flames, Noah is ice cold. He’s a Daddy’s boy in every way that Allie is a Papa’s girl. Was a Papa’s girl.

 

Brooke steps in and ushers Vanessa out of the room, barely shuts the door before they break down. The shorter man's arms claw at his vest, nails desperately trying to hook onto some semblance of hope or a bit of Brooke’s shirt to ground him. They somehow make it down the stairs and collapse onto the couch and into each other, clinging onto it like a lifeboat in the middle of a deserted sea - lonely, utterly alone.

 

At some point they fall asleep, exhausted from the crushing weight of other people's opinions, which seem intent on burning the house of cards they have built to the ground, holding each other to keep out the cold seeping from under the childrens' doorways.

 

*

 

Brooke wakes up at 2am to the feeling of a lump on his chest, one with a lot of hair that smells like apples. This confuses him, Vanessa smells of pomegranate.

 

When they come to again, they discover the twins had crawled between them on the couch, and they wake them up softly. Vanessa realises how much he’d missed Noah’s smile, even if this one is the groggy ‘Papa, I don’t wanna’ smile.

 

“You kids ain’t going nowhere today,” he commands, as he moves to the coffee pot. “We are gonna handle this shit - I mean stuff - like adults. Now sit.” He gestures, mug in hand, to the dining room table and motions for Brooke to start on with the pancakes. He’s improved a lot over the years and it's done in a little over twenty minutes. They sit in silence until the food is gone, and then he cradles his mug as they start to talk.

 

“What you said yesterday was out of line and, frankly, disrespectful,” Brooke starts, keeping a leveled voice and a respectful tone. “It hurt a lot and I just want to know where it came from.”

 

“Yeah, your dad is right, you kids have had a charmed ass life, and that was a low hanging fruit. Why?” His fiancé gives him a look as if to say ‘I said nothing of the sort’, but lets Vanessa take the lead.

 

“I - “ Noah starts, timidly, “Some kids, they said stuff ‘bout me and Allie being adopted and, and how we got real unlucky ‘cause we have two dads and, and -” he starts to sniffle a little and turns to Allie who is picking at the remainder of the blueberries on her plate.

 

“Yeah, and they took my Brooke and Nina badges off my jacket,” she huffs as she wipes the last of the juice off her thumb. Brooke tilts his head and sighs a little, grabbing Noah’s hand across the table.

 

“We’ve never lied to you kids, never grounded you and never stopped you from doing what you wanted, but that doesn’t mean you can lash out like that. I really thought that we’d taught you better.” the sincerity with which he says it sends shivers up Vanessa’s neck. “I want you to apologise to your Papa.”

 

“I’m sor - sorry Papa,” stutters Noah.

 

“Sorry Papa, sorry Dad.” responds Allie, soft smile lighting up her hazel eyes.

 

“In this house, we believe in full disclosure. I adopted you when you were three and a half. You were born in Oklahoma, raised by a mother who couldn’t take care of you, but loved you very much, and then you were handed to me, and it was the best day of my life. There will never be a better day than when I held you for the first time and knew that you were mine, and I was gonna work my ass off to make you good people. What you did today - that was... that shit was not cute. I can’t pretend to understand what it’s like for you, but this only works if you communicate with us, kiddos,” He leans into Brooke's side with a heavy exhale. “You three are the best things to ever happen to me.”

 

Allie stands up and moves around the table to wrap her arms around Vanessa’s neck tightly. He rests his face in her hair, and if he breathes deeply enough, he can smell tour nights and first days of school and Disneyland. Noah chews on his lips a little, before joining the cuddle, and Brooke has to move, so that he can create a kiddo-sandwich between himself and the other man. “I love you Papa, Dad” mumbles Noah into his Papa's shirt, and Brooke kisses the top of his messy brown hair with a smile. “You’re growing up, learn from this,” he replies softly, making eye contact with his partner just to check he’s doing the right thing. Vanessa smiles weakly and pushes his face back into his daughter's curls.

 

*

 

Kameron and Asia invite them round to see their new place. The two have been happily (officially) married for years, and finally moved out of Kameron's old apartment to have room to grow. The new condo comes with a massive garden, and Allie cannot get enough of it as she runs around like a lunatic, chased by the taller of the men, who taunts her in a mock southern accent while he leisurely jogs.

 

It’s a scorching hot day, and Asia comes out with a jug of pimms and a smile, as Brooke and Vanessa relax on the porch. They sip the drinks, cold against the heat of their bodies, and occasionally have to elbow their host who will not stop staring at his husband - shirt off, muscles rippling as he laughs. Brooke would be jealous of the way his fiancé stares, had he not been staring too.

 

Noah loves Kameron - always has, and they enlist Brooke to have a piggyback race up and down the garden, til the sun starts to set and they are bathed in a warm, golden light. Vanessa and Asia talk weddings, and Brooke and Kameron talk bathroom tiles, and it feels like a moment of solitude in the frenzy of life. Happiness distilled.

 

*

 

Nina and Monét babysit for the day, while Brooke and Vanessa go searching for suits. They’re four months into being parents and just about comfortable enough to think about looking after an additional two twelve-year-olds, who seem intent on doing nothing of what they are told. To satiate them (and Nina), Monét puts on the 'Lion King', but very quickly starts singing 'Circle of life' in operactics when Judah begins to fuss. Her boyfriend, god bless her, tries to harmonise, but Nina has never been known for the stellar high notes, and Noah plugs his ears in the corner of the sofa.

 

“Hun, Baby, Sugar Plum,” Monét chuckles as she rocks Judah, smoothing out the dalmation onsie the other man had dressed the 6 month old in after lunch. “How are the kids supposed to learn proper music theory if you aren’t modelling it for them?”

 

“Well, my love,” mocks Nina with a smile, as she pauses her excited singing at Allie and faces her boyfriend. “The little one is 6 months old, and the other two are descendants of Vanj. I really don’t think this can be too bad.” Monét hums a little, before pretending to waltz with Judah all the way through to the kitchen, feet in time to the off-key songs of his lover.

 

Noah looks like he wants to scream and laugh all at once. She doesn’t blame him.

            

*

 

A’keria and Silky come over for a movie night one day, the former bringing her nephew to hang out with the twins, while the grown-ups do grown-up things (eat cheese and watch "Clueless").

 

It’s all going swimmingly, Silky hasn’t taught anyone any new phrases, and A’keria has resisted the urge to punch her for saying something dumb. Perfect.

 

When the film ends, all four of them a little tipsy on the good white wine that Brooke had found in the back of the cupboard, Vanessa turns to his friends with an excited smile and a twinkle in his eye (which has nothing to do with him being a little more drunk than the rest of them).

 

“Kiki, Big Silk,” He starts, laughing as Silky wiggles her eyebrows. “I have a prop- propositu- thing for you.”

 

“Spill.”

 

“I want you two hoes to be my groomsmen.”

 

He is cut off by squealing that can only be done by a wine-fuelled Silky, who launches herself forward in excitement. “Yes, bitch!”

 

“And Kiki?”

 

“Uhuh.”

 

“Would you be my best man? We both know that Silk can’t organise for shit.”

 

The man rolls her eyes, as if to say that she knew this was coming - and Vanessa isn’t wrong. Silky just asks for a speech, and as Brooke mutters something about a shit show under her breath, the Dreamgirls celebrate with more brie and olives.

 

They end up sleeping on the couch.

 

*

 

“FUCK OFF, GEOFFREY”

  
“COME THROUGH, FELICIA! HIT THE DAMN BUTTON.”

 

Vanessa calls midway through 'Jeopardy', and the only thing that stops Monét swearing down the line is the sleeping baby in her boyfriend's arms.

 

“What?!” she hisses, pausing the television, much to the dismay of Nina. She rolls her eyes as the Puerto Rican rambles on about groomsmen, the annoyance fading into a soft smile as she realises just what she’s being asked. “Of course, I’d be honoured, José.” Nina looks up from placing soft kisses all over Judah's face to mouth 'What?' and it makes Monét giggle a little. ‘Vanj wants a groomsman’ she mouths back, before zoning back into the conversation and realising that Vanessa has left her in the dust, and she has no idea what he’s talking about. “Yes, September, uhuh,” she agrees, “can I go back to watching 'Jeopardy' now? Felicia is winning and me and my man are excited.”

 

Vanessa laughs down the line, muttering something about football being less of a sport as he hangs up.

 

“‘Nessa wants you as a groomsman?” Nina asks with a smile, genuine excitement on her face. “Judah wants to be a groomsman too,” she hoists the baby up, makes him pretend to stand, as she coos at him.

 

“You know Brooke’s gonna ask you too - I’m thinking best man.”

 

“We’ll see.” She says, but she smiles like she knows it’s true.

 

“‘Jeopardy’?”

 

Monét is just about to unpause the TV when a call comes through for Nina. She sighs and rolls her eyes at the prospect of having to wait, but takes the sleeping baby from her boyfriend, so that Nina can take the call.

 

“Andrew speaking. Brock? Hey, babe!” Monét watches as the other man's smile grows into true ‘child at Disneyland’ proportions. “You know it would be an honour. Text me with the dates! I will fully plan anything, you know me. Love you too!”

 

She squeals when she gets off the phone, so loudly that her boyfriend has to shush her, pointing animatedly at the sleeping baby. Nina excitedly dances in the living room, and Monét is damn sure she hasn’t been this happy in a while.

 

*

 

For some reason, they reach Trixie on their list of possible babysitters in November. They’re not sure how, and they’re not sure why, but when they call her, she tells them she is free, and with little to no enthusiasm agrees to look after the ‘small children’ (her words) for the afternoon, while Brooke and Vanessa scout caterers. They invite her in, and give her the customary ‘this is where the glasses are, here’s the wine, don’t burn the house down’ tour (one that will have been useful by the end of the day), before leaving her, looking unhappy but patting a child's head nonetheless, and go on their way.

 

They don’t know that Katya arrives mere minutes later, guitar in hand and manic smile on her face. The queen is significantly more excited about the children than her counterpart, and yet the twins still gravitate towards Trixie a little more. They watch cartoons for twenty minutes. Katya gets bored.

 

Later, someone will blame the shorter man for the smoke in the kitchen and the smug smiles on the kids' faces. They will not know that Trixie played the guitar while Katya did a weird interpretive dance, one that backed her into the kitchen and led to her turning the oven on by accident. They will, however, discover the burnt lasagna that was stored there. Katya will deny all knowledge and Trixie will laugh.

 

The kids will plead the fifth and beg for Dominos for dinner. They will win.

 

*

 

Christmas in the Mateo-Hytes empire (as the twins had taken to referring to their household as) is not a subtle affair. The second the clock strikes midnight on November 30th, the decorations are out, so many that Brooke and Vanessa start to have a midnight decorating party. It’s the first of numerous annual traditions they pull out around this time of the year, and even if it means that the two struggle to stay awake the next day - it’s one of their favourites.

 

Brooke always insists on baking his family's Christmas cookies every weekend up until the big day, they’re spiced with nutmeg and cinnamon, and taste like a warm log fire on a cold day. They make the man long for the cool weather of Toronto again, but it’s okay - he’d spend Christmas anywhere his family is.

 

They celebrate Christmas Eve for Vanessa, a traditional Nochebuena dinner being cooked every year without fail. He vowed to raise his kids the way he was raised, and he will not stop for anyone, as he convinces Brooke to finally help him with the tembleque (a kind of custard made with coconut, cornstarch, vanilla, and cinnamon). They make a mess trying to make it together, so big that the shorter man banishes him to the living room with a coffee and _‘you and your ass in here distracting me’,_ to try and finish in time for people coming over. Christmas Eve is a drag family affair - Christmas Day is for the kids.

 

When it’s A’keria and Silky and Nina and Monét and Kameron and Asia, and everyone else sat around their table, none of them have to be home to feel at home. Sometimes family is bigger than just relatives.

 

On Christmas morning the air is thick with excitement, as the twins run in and jump on their parents with a vigour not typically found in humans at six am. Brooke rubs his eyes groggily, used to waking up like this from years of ballet, but also way too comfortable with his koala of a fiancé wrapped around him, keeping his body temperature high.

 

Vanessa makes them all cinnamon hot chocolate, and then paces their present opening, because _‘I can’t entertain y’all at seven am, take it slow’._ The noise Allie makes when she unwraps new sneakers is akin to a small demon, whereas Noah just smiles like a maniac, as he hugs his pointe shoes close - a promise from Brooke that he can learn to dance like that, like his Dad. They spend the rest of the morning dancing to the Christmas songs that blast through the house, and they don’t need the cookies to feel warm and fuzzy inside.

 

*

 

Vanessa hosts his last Friday show before the wedding - pulls out some classic numbers like ‘No More Drama’, and even calls back to her ‘Call Me Mother' remix. It gets to one in the morning when she decides to pull a guest on stage - one she’s sure the crowd will love.

 

“We getting hitched soon, so I want to call my lovely man up to the stage! Ladies and gentlefolks, give it up for my twinkle toes.”

 

Brooke looks surprised - they discussed it beforehand, but he still manages to look shocked. They’ve got a night away from the kids, so he’s been drinking Tequila since 10, and he’s got warm hands and an easy smile as Vanessa pulls him up the stairs and sits him on one of two back to back chairs.

 

“Now, if y’all come here often, you might know,” she tongue pops, “that I am partial to a lap dance - but this is not a normal night! BIG SILK!” And Silky comes through the curtain behind, covered in silver fringe and with a shit eating grin that makes Brooke keel over laughing. “The shoes?” Vanessa asks dramatically, like she is a magician or something in that vein, and the other queen produces a pair of Vanessa’s heels and Brooke’s trainers - to which they both look vaguely shocked, neither knowing quite how she got a hold of them. Silky retreats back behind the curtain and A'keria walks out - the same glittery fringe, but a much less excited smile.

 

“The game is quite simple.” She drawls, looking bored, but with the sparkle in her eye that tells she is nothing of the sort. “I say something, you hold up the shoe of the person who it most applies to.” The audience makes ‘ooh’ noises and both participants crack a smile - unsure of what they will be asked.

 

“One: who is better with kids?”

 

They both pause for a second, unsure of how best to proceed, before Brooke tentatively holds up the heel and Vanessa throws up the trainer. The Latino turns around a little (or at least tries to), before being batted by Brooke and forced to sit back the right way.

 

“Interesting. Two: who causes the most arguments?”

 

They both immediately show the heel, which causes an uproar of laughter. “What?! I’m messy,” Vanessa cries out and Brooke only nods, something that winds the audience up a little more, although Vanessa can’t work out why. As they put the shoes down, Brooke leans his head back and pecks his partner on the cheek, causing A’keria to smile a little bit.

 

“Three: who takes up the most space?”

 

It’s unanimously Vanessa.

 

“Four: who’s the most expensive?”

 

Vanessa again.

 

“Five: who is the tidiest?”

 

Brooke shouts ‘the kids’ and A’keria gives up.

 

When the night ends, both parties are drunk and tired, but find their way into each other’s arms backstage. Neither minds the sweat, Vanessa’s makeup, or the way Silky and A’keria talk behind them - it feels familiar. It’s a little like coming home.

 

*

 

Brooke paces anxiously watched by Nina, who is tapping her foot in a way that is just right for Brooke to want to snap it off. Maybe not snap, but certainly stomp on it in some killer drag heels. He feels like he’s got a hole in the side of his head from the way the other man is staring, and it’s the last thing he needs.

 

“Don't you have anything better to do?”

 

“I’m your best man,” Nina huffs indignantly, “It is my job to stop you from running away.”

 

Brooke sighs and sinks into one of the old armchairs in the room, trying his very hardest not to crease any part of the suit Vanessa so kindly picked out. He’d been sceptical at first, a little shy about the prospect of looking like James Bond, but now that he’s seen himself in a full-length mirror, about to do it, he appreciates it. There's something about the black suit with the white shirt and black bow tie that does something. He can’t pinpoint what exactly, but he realises why his fiancé had been ready to rip his clothes back off when he’d tried it on. They had refrained (mostly).

 

“How’s José?” he asked, voice shaking with nerves and a little champagne.

 

“Monét says he won’t let Allie go, but apart from that he’s wonderful.” Brooke lets out a heavy sigh of relief, fear of a runaway groom assuaged for a little. “A’keria isn’t letting him drink any more.” She adds with a chuckle, fingers flying as she types out a response. Vanessa has Allie and Noah in his room as he gets ready, fretted over by Monét (with Judah) and the Dreamgirls. Brooke has, well, he has Nina, and even that feels like too much at times - her presence both soothing and smothering as she tries to mother him even after twenty years of friendship. He relegated Kameron and Detox to a separate room after five minutes. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Fucking terrified.”

 

*

 

“Scared shitless,” he replies with a smile. “I mean- nevermind, I cuss ‘nough round the house.” A’keria raises an eyebrow but goes back to fussing over Judah, the baby dressed in a mini three-piece suit that’s had Monét almost crying all day. She keeps muttering about how ‘he’s growing up so fast’, and Vanessa has already threatened to give the kid to Nina for the rest of the preparations. They’ve got ten minutes. They’re not ready.

 

Despite being a little too old for their roles, Allie and Noah are excited for their jobs of flower girl and page boy respectively. Allie is the only girl in the wedding party, and Vanessa bought her a blush tulle gown to go with a small pair of heels. Noah is in a mini version of Brooke's tux, and Silky has been awwing over it since he put it on. He’s sure they look like a perfect little family (and he feels like they are one too).

 

Michelle knocks on the door, lets them know to start lining up, as she moves over to Vanessa and straightens his tie.

 

“You look great, baby. I’m so proud,” she whispers, running a finger under his chin to lift it as she speaks. She’s always felt like his second mother, and to know that she’s officiating makes him a little more confident. “Chin up,” she reminds before leaving again.

 

He paces over to the twins, crouching in front of them. “I love you guys, you know that right? You’re the best thing that ever happened to my sorry little as- butt, and I just want you to know that this might be making Brock your Dad, but I will always be your Papa.”

When Allie kisses his cheek he has to gulp back a sob, overwhelmed tears threatening to ruin the beat he’s done. He chokes back the cries, burying his head in Noah’s curls for a second, before standing back up straight and brushing off his suit. “Ready?”

 

*

 

“Ready?” asks Nina, stood at the door with a smile. She opens it and they step out into the corridor, the cold of the old mansion creeping through. They chose January and the crisp air reminds Brooke of his home in Toronto, but at the same time, the chill biting at his ankles could have been forgone for a warmer breeze and he wouldn’t have complained.

 

His mama walks over to them, flanked by Kameron and Detox, who have each linked an arm - he almost breaks down just from seeing her.

 

“Mommy,” he smiles wetly, “You look gorgeous.”

 

“Thank you, dear,” she replies with a calm smile and a warm hand on his cheek. The others leave to join the rest of the group, it having been decided that Brooke and his mom would go in first, then the wedding party, and then Vanessa could make whatever grand entrance he came up with. He takes a deep breath, centres himself and links his mom's arm with his.

 

“I’m so proud of you, baby.”

 

“Thank you, mom.”

 

The music starts and he walks in.

 

*

 

As soon as Brooke enters, the rest of the party gather around the corner and queue up together. Allie and Noah go first, Allie throwing as many flowers (intermixed with glitter) as she can, specifically over the guests she knows well. Willam gets a handful of glitter in her hair, that she brushes onto Courtney Act, the queen looking disgruntled but unable to stop herself from cooing. Courtney Conquers, the designated child holder, beckons the two of them over to her in the front row. She’s already crying, has been since she arrived, but her smile eclipses the rest of the room. Detox and Kameron walk in next, strutting in their suits like their life depended on it (but also impressively in time with the slow beat of the music). A’keria and Silky follow, surprisingly calm. Nina hands Judah over to Jamie at the door, the woman sneaking him into the soundproof filming booth they’ve got at the back - an ingenious idea that was definitely Vanessa’s (it was Brooke’s, but the shorter man refuses to admit it). Just as they get ready to go through the door, Monét looks Nina in the eyes and without saying a word switches out her pocket square for a sponge. Her boyfriend looks like she’s about to die laughing as Michelle glares at them down the aisle, and they have to move quicker than they should, because now they are late. Nina is unimpressed, Monét is silently cackling.

 

The music changes to something slow and possibly Spanish-sounding, and everyone rises to their feet. Brooke turns and his jaw drops. His eyes begin to water frantically, and, without looking at him, Michelle hands him a tissue. He feels like he has been blinded by an angel, the soft lighting of the venue doing wonders to Vanessa who is glowing, actually glowing. Somehow, he feels underdressed and overdressed all at once, the other man taking up every sense and emotion he has, until all he feels and sees and smells and hears is _José_. He is hopelessly in love. “Fuck.”

 

The world has slowed to a stand still as they lock eyes, the only thing mattering to Vanessa are the pooling cerulean irises staring into his own brown ones. The warmth they emanate bathing him in joy - the look in Brooke’s eyes feels like coming home.

 

“I missed you,” he whispers, clasping Vanessa’s hands in his and hoping his soon-to-be husband cannot feel the way his palms have become clammy from nerves.

 

“I know,” the other man smirks as Michelle (ever the mother) shushes them both before speaking to the room. Whatever she announces goes unheard by the two men, as they get lost once more amid the hustle and bustle of the wedding. Everything else falls away, until they are two naive men, eight(ish) years earlier in a bright pink workroom, hands sweaty and faces a little scared - falling in love.

 

*

 

“José, my love, I vow to always make you pancakes in the morning and a cup of peppermint tea at night. I vow to let you use my drag racks, even when you insist you don’t need them, and not to care when you steal my eyelashes, or my lipstick, or my glitter. I vow to help you raise Allie and Noah, and give them the life they deserve, and to never complain when you curl around me in bed. Most importantly, I have loved you since I can’t remember when, and I promise to love you until I can’t forget how, I promise.”

 

*

 

“Brock. Um - Fuck. Sorry, fudge. I swear I was prepared, but now it all looks kinda like rubbish, and I dunno if I can read it through these fucking tears. Um, bottom line, I love you. I always have and always will love you - as a best friend, as a father to our kids, and as a husband. I believe we are soulmates and I am ind- indept - indeptiated? Nevermind. I love you, always.”

 

*

 

“I do.”

 

“Uhuh, yup, I do too.”

 

“You may now kiss your husband! BUT KEEP IT PG.”

 

*

 

Nina taps at her glass to silence the room, glances over at the newlyweds to make sure that they’re looking at her instead of into each other's eyes (it’s sweet, but she prepared for this).

 

It’s a speech that makes everyone cry (especially Courtney, but she’s been crying the entire time), involving way too many Disney references and at least one mention of how she had no idea that Vanessa’s name was actually José. Brooke mouths a 'thank you' as she sits back down, a sentiment that, coming from Brooke, means more than the world.

 

A’keria's is as enjoyable as it is embarrassing, has everyone crying from laughter before crying from joy at the very end. The theme of the night seems to be ‘ _These people are too good for this world’_ , and it’s not something anyone chooses to argue with - too wrapped up with how fucking adorable they are as they dance, holding eachother close, like to let go would mean they would lose each other.

 

It ends with Brooke and Vanessa’s mom dancing to "Hotel California", both a little drunk on love and wine, as Allie dances with Kameron, and Noah with Monét. Asia coos over Judah as he giggles (having slept through most of the evening so far), and Trixie and Katya manage to slow dance out of rhythm in the corner - both sober, both falling into each other.

 

Vanessa watches it all with a smile and a glass of flat champagne.

 

“How did I get so lucky?” He muses out loud to himself.

 

“Life is good,” replies Brooke’s mama with a smile. “Welcome to the family, son.”

  
  



	5. chapter four. in which family means support

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Annoying, speaks passable Spanish, highly caffeinated,” Brooke ticks off with his fingers. “Sounds about right."
> 
> Vanessa sighs and tilts his head to the side. “I can’t even argue with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while and i'm sorry but here i present you with a mess that i love rather alot. it contains a few deeply personal moments and has been so lovingly beta'd by frey and i really hope you enjoy it. remember, don't be quiet with your feedback! it's a writers coffee. enjoy!

When Monét and Nina go on a date, Brooke and Vanessa decide it’s the perfect time to give the twins some responsibility. In hindsight, it’s not their best idea, then again, hindsight is always 20/20.

 

They drop the pair in front of the two-story house - tell them they’ll be right down the street in the little French café, and leave rather abruptly. Noah knocks on the door, and the two cringe as they hear the kerfuffle of a house full of three young boys, and a rather disgruntled looking Monét. 

 

“I’d tell you they’re usually saints, but that would be a bold-faced lie,” she tells them, out of breath, carrying the youngest of the three - Spencer. He’s a two-year-old from East Asia that they adopted six months prior. He smiles like he knows no other facial expression and likes "The Little Mermaid". This is all the information the flustered adult relays to them before he yells up the stairs for his partner.

 

Nina comes down in a pressed white shirt, black dress trousers and a rainbow bowtie. He is not smiling - a fact which concerns the twins as they have only seen him frowning four times.

 

  1. Noah has an allergy attack. No one is happy. Allie vividly remembers crying into Brooke's shirt. 
  2. Brooke gets paint on the carpet. The paint is red. The carpet should not be.
  3. Nina cannot put together an Ikea chair.
  4. Monét drops Owen. No one knows how it happened, but Nina frowned for solid three days, and everyone thought the apocalypse was brewing.



 

Nina is trailed by Judah, the little boy carrying his stuffed Mufasa and being followed himself by Owen - the three-year-old sniffling as he shuffles down the carpeted stairs.

 

“Ah,” she turns, seeming to notice Allie and Noah for the first time. “Hey, kiddos! Can I get you anything?” She says all this while fixing Monét’s tie, which had been laying limp around her neck. Spencer tries to pull it undone several times, but Nina prevails through an impressive mix of brute force and 'Part of Your World’.

 

“I think we’re okay?” Noah responds good naturedly, half-laughing at the scene unfolding. 

 

Monét spends a few more minutes explaining various things to the twins, as Nina goes round kissing all of her babies good night. She tacks on that they’re ready for bed and need to be asleep by 7, but whispers to Allie that it's harder than it seems, winking a little.

 

“Thank you so much guys!” Shouts Monét on the threshold.

 

“Yeah! We’ll be back by ten at the latest!”

 

The door shuts, and Allie wonders briefly if  she's agreed to babysit demons. She realises rather quickly, that the answer to that is complex. It is complex, because while they were not demons when she half-heartedly agreed - they certainly are now. Her head snaps up as she hears a yelp coming from her brother, and she stifles a laugh, seeing him lying on the sofa, being sat on by all three babies. Noah isn’t short - he’s long and tall, a mess of dark, curly hair complimenting his soft caramel skin - but he is lanky. So lanky that even the smallest of the kids engulfs his torso.

 

Allie scoops up Owen with little to no effort - the small blonde relatively light for his age - and sits him on her lap. 

 

“What’s wrong, buddy?” She asks the sniffly child in a soft voice.

 

“Juju - he -” he starts crying softly again and she rubs his back calmly. 

 

“He did what?”

 

“He took my dammy.”

 

At this moment Alie is so very grateful that she has been a part of the boys life for so long. Had she been anyone else, she would have had no idea what he was on about, but she just happens to have been the one who picked out the stuffed dalmatian toy, so she hoiks Owen onto her hip and very slowly carries him upstairs to where she assumes the animal will be. She is proven right, when it is found under Judah’s pillow - the four-year-old pretty rudimentary in his hiding skills (for being four). Once the child is calmer and almost fast asleep in her arms, she checks the time. It’s almost ten to seven, so she quietly places him in the toddler bed, tucking the covers under his chin and placing a kiss to his soft, blonde hair.

 

She turns around to see Noah at the door, Spencer lolled in his arms, and Judah clinging to his leg. She smiles warmly at her twin with a baby, and watches his face soften everytime he looks down. 

 

“You take Judah?” He asks quietly, the little boy almost asleep on his feet, tired out by whatever game he was playing with Noah, and she obliges, guiding him to the slightly bigger bed, while her twin takes Spencer to his parents' room. Nina must have been joking, she realises, as she tucks him in too, pushing her fingers through his thick, black curls. She might have agreed to babysit angels instead.

 

When Allie reaches Nina and Monéts room, she pauses at the door, hearing Noah softly singing. It’s a Spanish lullaby, the one their Papa used to sing when they were little. She hopes it brings Spencer the same peace it’s always brought her. 

 

“'Arrorro mi niño'? Huh,” she jibes quietly as he closes the door. 

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Noah le gustan los bebés”

 

“You’re such an ass.”

 

“Español, por favor?”

 

“Eres un gilipollas.”

 

“Thank you, bro!"

 

*

 

“Wakey, wakey mijos!” Calls Vanessa through the sizzling of pancakes. He doesn’t hear anything for a second, as he leans on the staircase railings, but then hears a quiet thud and cursing, so assumes at least one of his children is awake. He figures he can tip some water on them if they aren’t awake in the next fifteen minutes. 

 

The morning feels reminiscent of a time long gone. Brooke is stood in a plaid dressing gown, making pancakes while sipping from his very faded ‘Worlds Best Dad' mug. Vanessa sits at the breakfast bar with his own coffee - his smaller frame dwarfed in a t-shirt of Brooke’s and some plain pyjama bottoms (almost certainly Brooke's too). He smiles at the memories of school mornings with kids half the age, of herding them through doors and into the car, and has to stop as he feels tears rising in him.

 

“They’re only sixteen,” reminds his husband softly, placing down the pan to set a gentle hand on his arm.

 

“I know,” Vanessa sobs, “but sixteen means there ain’t long til we look at college and all that shit. I ain’t ready for that!”

 

“You got long enough, Papa,” comes Noah from the stairs, his voice a little huskier in the morning. He makes grabby hands at the cup of coffee waiting for him, before taking his usual seat at the bar too. Brooke slides a plate of pancakes towards him and smiles with pride as the boy reaches for the maple syrup.

 

“Happy birthday, son,” he says before making a vague gesture upstairs and raising an eyebrow. Noah shakes his head vigorously, and Vanessa wipes his eyes before grabbing a glass of water.

 

They hear a loud yelp and footsteps thunder down the stairs, the short Puerto Rican swiftly followed by an angry teenage girl - her dark curls flying after her.

 

“Happy birthday, Love,” calls Brooke, handing over a plate of food as a safety precaution. Allie has it within her to smile as she takes it, before slouching onto the chair between Vanessa and Noah. She makes a hand movement for coffee, and her Papa slides a mug to her with a chuckle. 

 

“You’re clearly my kids,” he grins as he sips his drink.

 

“Annoying, speaks passable Spanish, highly caffeinated,” Brooke ticks off with his fingers. “Sounds about right.”

 

Vanessa sighs and tilts his head to the side. “I can’t even argue with you.”

 

“Happy birthday, dimwit,” whispers Allie, head on her brother's shoulder as they listen to their parent's bickering.

 

“Happy birthday, little sis.”

 

She hits him.

 

*

 

It’s the day after the twins' birthday. They’ve had a fantastic time running around LA with their parents and messing around - just the way they wanted to spend it - and decide to end it cuddled up on the sofa, drinking cold lemonades and watching cartoons. It feels right.

 

“I hope you kids have had a good day,” calls out Brooke from across the living room, his own tall frame encompassed in blankets and his husband. Vanessa pokes his head up from the comfort of the cocoon and smiles, kissing Brooke’s cheek before resting his head again.

 

“We have, but we have one more thing,” Allie announces, wrestling with the blankets and pillows for a second, so she can stand up. She leaves the room only to come back with a box - A4 sized and with a red ribbon tied around it. Noah gets up to join her, and they meet in front of the couple, handing Brooke the box with expectant looks. 

 

He chuckles nervously - "I thought it was your birthday weekend" - before he slowly unties the ribbon. 

 

Within the box is a brown court envelope addressed to Brock Hayhoe-Cancel. He fumbles with it for a second, feels the weight of the paper in his hands, before he starts to peel at the opening, tugs and pulls out a sheaf of white paper. There's a note at the top - on a school grade lined paper, it reads:

 

‘Dad,

 

You’ve been our dad for years, but we figured it’s time you became that officially. We love you! 

 

Allie and Noah.’

 

Before he realises it, Vanessa’s hand is rubbing soft circles onto his back, and he is crying. He drops the papers onto his lap and takes one of each twin’s hands with his own.

 

“Thank you,” he says through choked sobs, “thank you for letting me be your dad.”

 

Allie swipes a finger under her eye and smiles wetly. “Thank you for being the best dad we could ask for.”

 

Noah gulps and smiles too - leans his head on his sister's shoulder, sighing. He swings Brooke’s hand in his own before leaning forward to kiss his wet cheek.

 

“Thank you, Dad.”

 

“It was never something that needed thanking.”

 

*

 

“You want a cat?”

 

“Dad is always telling us how much you loved Henry and Apollo!”

 

“Yeah, but they weren’t my cats.”

 

“They were Dad's.”

 

“Funnily enough, still no.”

 

*

 

It happens, as all important things do, on a Tuesday.

 

Noah arranges a family meeting by placing an event in the Hytes-Mateo google calendar (a necessity in a house where one or both parents can randomly be booked for a gig - both do more shows now than they have since before the twins). He does so without saying a word, half hoping the rest of the family will assume it’s been there for months, and just turn up. The next step in his plan is to order pizza to be delivered at the exact time the meeting is arranged for - he has always been taught that pizza is a universal bandaid. 

 

And now he waits.

 

He struggles to sit through AP calculus, legs jittering and palms sweaty, as he tries to keep primary and secondary derivatives straight in his head - completely ignoring the teachers long-winded explanation of limits. When he gets home, he sits in his room for a little while until six, when he takes his seat in the living room and waits for his family. 

 

Vanessa steams through the door, shoes and bag on the floor and ass in his chair before Noah can say a word. Brooke follows pretty soon after, although his movements are a little less frantic and better placed. Allie is last, then again she’s never had a penchant for being on time.

 

He stands at the front awkwardly, hands clasped in front of him, then in his pockets. One briefly lingers on his hip and another brushes through his hair, slick with sweat.

 

“Noah, honey. What’s wrong?” Asks Vanessa. He’s worried and Brooke places a hand on his knee in solidarity - whole body leaned forward, as if trying to hear the words that haven’t yet been spoken.

 

“Mhmm,” he assuages (rather unconvincingly), “it’s just that. I’m just-”

 

“I’m gay.”

 

The room is that sort of still quiet for a second. A pause in the woods, a page being turned, the moment after a hairdryer is shut off. They all just stare, and he looks a little queasy - pale green - never one to enjoy pointed attention.

 

“AND I LIKE MEN TOO,” Allie shouts, jumping up and going to put an arm around her brother - a small smile creeping onto his face. “You see, we’re just a set of twins who both like men, cool? Cool.”

 

“I love you,” Noah whispers into her ear, the girl just winking.

 

“I mean, it would be hypocritical to disapprove, son,” responds Brooke, beaming as he says it. “I- We’re so proud of you.” Vanessa stands up with him and they all move to embrace him. It’s a family hug that seems to go on for hours, the shorter man whispering affirmations into his son's hair, nose deep into the chocolate curls.

 

When they pull away, everyone's a little teary.

 

“I’m so proud to call you my son.”

 

*

 

“Who you texting?” Yvie asks, smirking as she leans into Scarlets side. The couple are hanging out with Allie for the afternoon - having become the favourite of her parents' friends when she realised she could (and would) steal their clothes.

 

She hides her phone with speed, tucking it under the cushion next to her, and ignoring the way it pings every thirty seconds. The adults raise eyebrows but say nothing.

 

They are at the judging part of ‘Project Runway’ when Scarlet takes it upon herself to crawl across the other two bodies and grab the device unceremoniously. She hits the on button with a ferocity not seen since Penny Tration's dumpster diving in season five, before it lights up displaying the texts. 

 

“Ooooo,” she teases. “Who’s Michael?” 

 

Allie flushes crimson, her face matching the sofa cushion she is hugging for emotional support. She tries to answer, but giggles instead - it’s sickeningly sweet and makes the air smell like spun sugar.

 

“No one!” She attempts to cover, but it comes out sing-songy and too high pitched, and she buries her face in the cushion instead. 

 

She sighs, pulls her shoulders back and composes herself, looking straight into Yvie's eyes. “He is a boy from debate class.”

 

“Well, is he cute?!” Scarlet asks, squealing a little, and Yvie looks embarrassed, trapped against her will in a conversation she thought she escaped years ago - teen boys.

 

“Ugh. Show me a picture then.” She concedes, frown turning to smile when she sees Scarlet’s reaction.

 

“He’s... hot?”

 

*

 

“YOU GOT THEM A CAT?!”

 

“He’s called Silver.”

 

“It’s a cat, Brock.”

 

“But the toe beans.”

 

“Brock.”

 

“Squish.”

 

“I swear to fucking god and the holy motherfucking ghost.”

 

“It’s a kitten, José. Language… Squeesh.”

 

“I guess. I guess it’s pretty cute. But it is your responsibility. You better be chill, Mr Silver. I don’t want no shit from you.”

 

“Told ya you’d like him.”

 

“Don't push it.”

 

*

 

When Nina and Monét text the family Whatsapp group saying they're taking their kids to the park, they don’t expect Allie to reply. They also don’t expect her to be as enthusiastic as she is, when she turns up at their door in her daisy dukes and a short-sleeved striped button-up. 

 

She’s practically bouncing on her heels as she picks up Spencer, spinning him around before balancing him on her hip. She smiles softly as he tries to grab her glasses off her head. 

 

They take a long wander to the park, Allie chasing Owen and Judah part of the way until she sits down on a park bench overlooking the play area with their parents.

 

“How come you’ve only adopted boys?” She asks out of curiosity, eyes fixed on Judah on the seesaw with a younger girl. 

 

Monét looks at Nina with a furrowed brows before answering, “I guess we just felt more comfortable. I don’t know. Do you think we shouldn’t have?”

 

She smiles in a way that can only be described as a little lonely. “I don’t know. I just always wanted to be a big sister? You get me.” There’s a lull in the conversation, as she reaches down to untie and retie her shoes before sitting back up straight and looking them both in the eye. “I know that you guys have been such a great second family to me,” she says, bringing a smile to Nina’s face immediately. “I love being an older sister to your kids, and they will always be my family - you will always be my family.”

 

“The kids love you like you’re ours,” Monét points out as she sits forward to place a hand on Allie’s knee. “We all love you so much. You and Noah are always welcome round here.”

 

Nina looks proud as they sit there, rests his head on Monét's shoulder, and they lean back on the park bench. 

 

“I think we know what we’re doing next, then.”

 

*

 

“Hey, kids!” Shouts Brooke up the stairs one morning. “Asia feels like she hasn’t seen you in ages, and wants to know if you want to go over this afternoon.” He reads the text once more before adding, “Kam will be there?”

 

Noah replies first, his head poking up at the top of the stairs, nodding frantically, while Allie texts Brooke an affirmation, making him scoff a little before returning to his crossword.

 

He drives them to the house in the suburbs with the teal shutters, the red door and the pride flag hanging out of the second-floor window, like no one’s heard of homophobia. He chuckles to himself, as Kameron walks out in a pair of basketball shorts and an apron which proclaims ‘Kiss the cook’, but as each child walks past with a bemused look, the older man’s enthusiasm fails a little, and he looks dejected trailing back to the kitchen.

 

“Right, kids,” he states, clapping his hands authoritatively. “Me and Noah are gonna make lasagna. Allie, you’re upstairs, tiling the bathroom with Asia.” Kameron giggles at the reactions he gets (although is pleasantly surprised at Allie’s enthusiasm, when presented with a filler gun and a cement powder-covered man in his late forties). 

 

They realise later that Asia would have been much better equipped to make the lasagna, as Kameron trips on the edge of a loose tile, briefly cursing the drunken wedding that led him to the moment. The lasagna, however, is beautiful (all due to Noah's apparent culinary genius.)

 

The twins share the washing up, as Kameron and Asia drink wine at the kitchen island and wonder for a second why they never had kids. They realise that they never needed to. They have two Mateos (or five, with the Wests), and a family that spans across countries. Plus, they’re friends with Vanessa, and that’s enough.

 

*

 

Nina and Monét signed up to foster when they realised there were so many kids that needed non-permanent homes.

 

They got a call on a Wednesday night, telling them there was a seven-year-old called Amelia, that needed temporary housing, and the acceptance was instant. Now it’s two days later, and they’re not all the way convinced.

 

“We’ve never looked after a girl,” points out Nina, as she leans on the car window frame. They’re on the highway with the windows open and she can't hear herself think, which she’s starting to believe may be just what she needs.

 

“We’ve half-raised Allie,” reminds Monét, placing a gentle hand on her partner's knee. “Andrew, baby, look at me.” She sees the tears in her eyes, and if she wasn’t driving she would wipe every single one away. “We can do this.”

 

“You’re right. Let’s meet Amelia.”

 

*

 

It started as a joke:

 

“Vanessa Vanjie Isabella Mateo-Hytes ain’t your mother bitch!”

 

But it swiftly grew into so much more.

 

One day, Allie runs downstairs at a breakneck speed. She charges into the dining room, to find her Papa sat at the table stoning a pair of tights. She looks scared and she’s clutching her phone like a lifeline, and he stands up, ushering her to the nearest seat to regain her breath.

 

“Papa!” She cries, “it’s Lily, her- her mom’s boyfriend- he, he-” She starts sniffling, and Vanessa notices her phone ringing again. He reaches over slowly, and upon seeing Lily’s name, he picks up swiftly. The girl on the other end of the line is crying and it takes long enough for Vanessa to coax out that she’s hiding behind a sofa, because her mum’s boyfriend came home drunk and he’s not happy. She’s holding her little brother Dylan, who’s whimpering in the background, and she sounds utterly alone. 

 

“Can you get out?” He asks, calm and collected. When she affirms she can, he asks her address and, dropping a kiss on Allie’s head, grabs his car keys and leaves. 

 

He collects them from the lobby of the flat complex, bundles Dylan into the backseat with enough blankets to ensure he’s safely protected (they lack the car seat needed), and asks Lily to climb in the front. She’s come over for tea many times, and they’re familiar enough that she feels comfortable around the family, her tears clearing up as they round the corner onto their street. 

 

“You kids can stay here ‘til you feel safe, okay?” He asks, affirming what he hopes had been an obvious sentiment from the beginning.

 

“Thanks, Mama Mateo,” Lily jibes (although she is clearly beyond grateful. Her eyes pool a little as she smiles, and Vanessa wipes off a stray tear.)

 

“I’ll get Nina and Monét to bring over some spare stuff for Dylan.”

 

*

 

Then, Noah’s boyfriend comes out to his grandfather and he kicks him out (albeit temporarily), and he comes to stay. Brooke comes down the next morning with a knowing smirk and a kind heart.

 

“So, we’re adopting strays, Mama Mateo?” He jokes as he hugs his husband from behind.

 

“That’s Mama Mateo-Hytes to you, sir.”

 


	6. chapter five. in which family means everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allie has to wonder if they've ever had a family this big coming to graduation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's over and i'm so proud of this universe and what it's become. thank you to everyone who's loved it since the start and everyone who's joined us along the way. next stop - pretty woman!
> 
> i love you all,   
> thank you.  
> grapefruit   
> x

 

Allie has to wonder if they've ever had a family this big coming to graduation. Everyone's here. Every single person who had a hand in raising them has shown up, and it's beautiful to look at, as she stares out onto her family. She smiles brightly as she spots Trixie and Katya sneaking in from the back - the two definitely late because of Katya.

 

She marvels at the way Trixie had come around to their mere existence - the man has grown to love them like his own over the years, and god knows they've always loved him. The two will take the secrets of Katya's interpretive dance to their grave, and whatever happened that night will never be as much as mentioned again.

 

Kam and Asia wave from their place a few rows back, Kameron placing a hand on Asia's to try and stop the man from disrupting the ceremony. She chuckles to herself, nudging Noah, who's hand is intertwined with his boyfriend’s. The whole situation makes one of the teachers glare at them, and it only makes them laugh harder.

 

Nina and Monét brought all the kids including Amelia, who they ended up adopting anyway. She's like the sister Allie never had, and she's beaming with pride as she watches the ceremony. Judah looks bored and Spencer is fiddling with Nina's tie, but it's sweet. 

 

Scarlet and Yvie manage to still be more focused on each other than their surroundings, but they've mentored Allie through some of the harder times in her life, and she loves that they've come.

 

Michelle sits near the door with Sharon and Detox, and a few others too. 

 

Everyone looks just so proud to know them. It makes her want to cry.

 

And then there's their Dad, sat there, trying to hold their Papa together, as he wipes tears that started the moment the graduating class took their seats. They haven't even been called yet, and both their parents are beside themselves. She catches her Papa's eye, and he mouths 'I love you'. It makes her heart swell three sizes. 

 

"Please welcome our Valedictorian, Allie Cancel-Hayhoe."

 

Noah nudges her, "it's you, I love you."

 

"I love you more."

 

_ "It takes a village to raise a child. I should know. I had a village of drag queens. But what that taught me, is that if we have each other, no time can truly be dark. I will never be alone." _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> please leave comments/feedback - they really fuel me to write!
> 
> come harass me over on tumble @pink-grapefruit-cafe
> 
> xx


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